(Here is another scribble I found while uncluttering...(is that a word?)
I am beginning to think that I am surrounded by sacred spaces even within the city itself. I am going to make an attempt to connect with them, observe, just absorb the hushed peace of my surroundings while being aware. I try to avoid other people and conversations in these spaces but I think that I must respect that even they are a part of this wilderness. As I reach out to nature, I feel her in turn reaching into me, through me. I don't want to forget this feeling, this hushed sacredness, this subtle language of the breaching of barriers. No longer closed I feel something within me open. Perhaps this is prayer, no pleas, no supplications, no demands, but beautiful communion with things seen and unseen. I can feel Fall approaching, cooler mornings, crisper breezes, leaves slowly being shed, whatever is no longer needed discarded leaf by leaf- transformation in the many faces of one tree. They say Fall will come early this year- we shall see. A bird came to peek curiously at me. I forgot to bring an offering. I hope to remember next time just to say, "Hello, I have missed you and I am happy to spend time with you again."
I have seen butterflies, squirrels, birds that remind me of sparrows, spider webs and strange winged insects hovering near, bees busy over garbage cans, a man dancing while he swept leaves into piles by the church, a Native American in traditional dress walking through the mall with a Thank You plastic shopping bag.
I turn to the Mother, "No messages for me today?"
She says, "Bring me an offering the next time around. Listen, and discard what you no longer need. It is that time."